Truth
by sylveisaque
Summary: Working title. Again. T T When Edward and Alphonse are kidnapped by the marines, they find themselves fighting their way home. Why were they taken, and what does it mean for their future? Set one year after the Promised Day. Spoilers for recent chapters.
1. Chapter 1: Taken

I had another crossover like this one, but... really, I couldn't see it going anywhere. It was a bad premise to begin with, and I just couldn't find good reason for some things, like Ed and Al leaving Amestris, and such... so I decided to try again.

And this is what happened. First chapter is SHORT. Others will be longer, I promise. :D

**Chapter One: Taken**

The banks were deserted. Silt, sand and river sludge colored darkly by ash, gray and black. The smell of sulfur and burning wood was heavy in the air, with a metallic tinge beneath.

Flames clung to bits of wood, fragments of a massive craft, heat peeling the blue and turquoise paint striped with black right off. It's carcass still sat upon the water, consumed by flames, a smattering of unfortunate souls lifeless in the water around it. It's companions retreated southward on the river, fleeing from the wreckage and the one who caused it.

A man stood on the edge of the bank, his clothes covered in ash and dirt, his shoes encrusted with river muck. Blood dripped from his trembling hands, soaking through the gloves he wore, but closer inspection would prove that it was his own, seeping from the tips of his fingers, rubbed raw by the shards of flint in the white cloth.

He stood alone, but there were sounds of one more coming from behind him, running after him. His breath was searing in his lungs, heavy and tired from running along the bank after the ships. He would have continued, but his legs were like lead now, and refused to move, threatening to collapse beneath him.

A woman with long blonde hair pinned in a bun came to a stop next to him, out of breath. She gazed after the ships, brown eyes wide and angry, watching their surroundings as if she expected to see others. Her lips moved soundlessly for a moment, the words resolving themselves in her mind, and she turned to him.

"Colonel, where are the boys...?" She said weakly, her voice trailing off.

The gasping breaths passing his lips were uneven and enraged before, but with that, they grew ragged, making his shoulders shake. Something that sounded eerily like a sob escaped, moisture that was not owed to the river on his face.

"Colonel..."

His legs finally gave out, his knees sinking into the mud and silt. The intensity of the grief over his failure- his failure when they needed him most- overwhelming. His jaw clenched, hands clenching into fists as his breath curdled in his throat.

"DAMN IT!"


	2. Chapter 2: Culture Shock

(Why are my chapter breaks being removed? D8 I don't want it all to bleed together! Agh! Stupid !)

Yes, I'm back. Awfully quickly. Though please don't expect me to keep this pace through the whole story XD It's exhausting.

Like i said, the chapter is longer. Vague, too, but I can't give everything away in the first five, now can I?

Enjoy :D

**Chapter Two: Culture Shock**

**

* * *

**

The air was thin, and the sun bright. Clouds drifted by below, far under the feet of the soaring dragons that lived in the rafters of the world. It was so far separated from the rest of the world that it's traditions and culture was stuck in ages past, echoes of generations long-dead living on in the actions of their inbred descendants.

A pair of lips moved behind a thick beard. "The continent is no longer a myth."

"It never was." A man in a white kimono responded, glasses reflecting the sunlight as brightly as his bald head.

"Myth or no, this is a problem." Another spoke up, the only one who had color in his hair, in this case a dark straw color. He set the two photos on the table, of two similar boys. Another was nearby, of a black-haired man standing before a sea of flames.

"I never expected for there to be any of them left." Another moustache twitched, this one voluminous and curved at the ends. Splotches of port wine stains wrinkled on his forehead as his brow furrowed. "And what of the battleship that sank upriver?"

"Completely destroyed. They say flames leapt out of thin air and swallowed it whole. One said it was like fighting Fire Fist Ace."

"That settles it, then." The first sighed. "The king and queen of the demons fled to the continent, as we believed they had all along."

The one with the port wine stains turned and snapped his fingers at the guard by the door. "You, come here."

The young man scurried forward. "Yessir?"

"Have the issuers put a bounty on this man's head." He handed the marine the photo of the black-haired man. "Take into account that he destroyed a battleship with his bare hands."

"Right away, sir."

"And what of the other two?" The bald, bespectacled one growled. "Do we kill them?"

"There were stout defenses on their shores, no doubt strengthened since they were taken. We should send them to Marinford and interrogate them, as soldiers of a rogue government, and invade." Rumbled one with a scar on his right temple, both hands on a gnarled wooden cane. "Absolute Justice will be done, whether they support it or not."

There was a silence in which none opposed such action, and that was that. The five men dispersed, their meeting over, leaving the two photos on the table.

The names beneath them read Edward and Alphonse Elric.

* * *

It was making him absolutely _sick._

The way the floor pitched and rolled beneath him. Every swell and wave pushed the hull up on the water, and every time it fell back, his stomach took ten seconds to catch up, by which time another upswing was on it's way. The bruise on his head didn't help, nor the aching in his midsection from the punches and kicks he'd had to endure.

"Al." His brother rasped, opening his one eye that was not black. "You awake?"

"...Yeah." Al murmured. "Seasick again?"

Ed groaned in response.

"Just try to ignore it, Ed. I heard some of them talking about making landfall soon." Al said, trying to sound soothing. He lowered his head to his brother's shoulder, resting it there. Ed's cheek rested on top of his head a moment later. Al just hoped he didn't notice how rapid his heartbeat was, as it had been for the two weeks they'd been held by uniformed men. They weren't Aelgean or Cretan troops- he had seen them before, and they looked nothing like these people. Drachma was automatically out- the place was a freaking arctic tundra north of the Briggs range, and Al had enough sense to know that they were heading south over water. The ocean, if the salty tang in the air was any indication. And despite the lengths they had gone to to keep the brothers from knowing their whereabouts, there had been a fair stretch of time that they were on land, and then back in a ship again, but not the same one.

The blood on the corners of his mouth had dried into flakes, but the ache remained. Al didn't know how they had managed to get captured by what amounted to a bunch of lackeys, really. The soldiers themselves were no problem, but when their boss came out, it was a losing battle. Even the Colonel didn't stand a chance against him. Alphonse could vividly see the anger in Roy's eyes as he snapped his fingers and sent a column of flame at the man... it consumed him whole, should have reduced him to a pile of ash and singed bones, but when the flames died, he still stood there, with _ice_ on his skin.

He'd said something to the Colonel, about 'following orders' and how he 'didn't feel like fighting anyone who wasn't involved', to which Roy vehemently- and uncharacteristically- shouted at him that if that was the case he shouldn't have messed with his people. After that... he didn't remember much. Other than waking up in the hold of a ship, his memory was a blank. The sharp throb at the back of his head was probably the reason for that.

The motion of the ship wasn't the only thing that was bothering Edward. Al could hear the way the ice crystals scraped on the metal joints of his automail, freezing the critical points over to the point where he could hardly move without excruciating pain. They hadn't melted at all, and despite the slightly chilled, dank air in the hold, by all rights he should be free by now. They had bound their arms such that their hands weren't able to touch, having seen what they could do.

All they could do now was wait for a chance. And if there was anything Al had in spades, then it was patience.

"Get up."

Ed cringed when the harsh screech of a metal hinge pierced into his subconscious. He must have fallen asleep at some point, he realized belatedly. At least he wasn't seasick anymore.

He grunted in protest when a hand wound into his hair, dragging to his feet. He staggered lamely on his flesh foot, pain zinging through his utterly unresponsive prosthetic. It would be less painful if it were only limp, like a wire was cut, but there was still ice wedged in the joints and wire couplings deep inside it, freezing it in a partially bent position.

"Let him go!" Al demanded, struggling to find his feet.

Ed clenched his teeth, gathering strength in his leg to shove himself back into the one who grabbed him, but he was anticipated. The hand released his hair and grabbed for his arms, bound hand-to-elbow behind his back, and pinned his throat in the crook of his elbow.

"The Admiral would like to speak with you." A voice hissed, right next to his ear. "Walk, or your brother goes overboard. Your choice."

Enraged, Ed snarled. _Cowardly little bastard..._

"Fine."

There was a dark chuckle, and the only warning Ed got was the removal of the arm from his neck before he was roughly shoved toward the door of the cell. A combination of the rocking ship, his dizziness and the unresponsive left leg sent him frantically struggling to stay on his feet, with no arms to regain his balance. He stumbled to the side and just managed to catch himself by letting himself fall on the bars, his back and left shoulder protesting the impact.

Al lunged at the offending man in protest "You _sonuva_-"

"_Al!"_ Ed shouted, stopping his brother from going any further. "Take it easy. I'll go talk to the guy."

Alphonse's burning eyes swiveled to his brother. They then closed, the way they always did when he was consciously cooling his temper. He sighed, sitting back down in a crosslegged stance.

Ed then turned to the door, and another uniformed man grabbed him by the shoulders- much less roughly than the first, who was now closing the cell- and led him toward the exit.

* * *

"We've brought him, sir."

Edward didn't hunch his shoulders like a good little prisoner. He kept them straight as they entered the room, and his head up, his eyes cold and opaque. It was quite a feat to look as intimidating as he did with a lame leg and both arms tied behind his back, but somehow he managed it. The soldier guided him to a seat and put a pressure on his shoulders that made him sit.

"Ah, good." Drawled a lazy voice, it's owner coming in from the next room over. Ed silently marveled at how freakishly tall the man was, his head nearly grazing the ceiling. His skin was somewhat dark, his black hair short and curly.

He nodded at the guard, who then bowed and backed out of the room. Ed narrowed his eyes and elected to remain silent.

"There's no need to look at me like that, Edward Elric."

Ed's response was to narrow his bright eyes even further, his lip almost twisting in a snarl. This guy was the same one who'd captured them when the underlings proved to be useless. The one who survived being scorched by the Flame Alchemist, and frozen Ed's limbs over. Ed had every right to glare at the bastard, as far as he was concerned.

He tensed up suddenly, glaring at the tall man as he started to walk closer. He leaned over, too close for comfort, and set his palm down on Ed's knee.

"Wh- what are you-" Ed stammered, before the sound of crackling ice interrupted him, and the sensation of a release of pressure in his automail leg overwhelmed his nerves, with a feeling of relief so acute it made him hiss through his teeth from overstimulation.

He backed up, straightening the collar of his blue shirt as he casually strode back to his lounge chair. "I noticed you were having some trouble walking."

"Oh, how _considerate_ of you." Ed's words dripped with sarcasm, though he realized the ice had indeed been removed. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to do the same for my arm so I can break your fucking nose?"

"'Fraid not." He yawned, sitting back down, with a distinctly bored air. "You see, Mr. Elric, I'm just a delivery boy. Aokiji, marine Admiral. Nice to meet you."

Ed remained silent, his eyes narrowed. So he _was_ some sort of soldier. Question was, of what country?

"I don't blame you for being confused." Aokiji drawled, seeming to read Ed's confusion. "Not a single person has set foot on the continent since ancient times, over eight hundred years ago, before the World Government was formed. Most people think it's just a myth."

"So why come in with guns blazing and kidnap two Amestrian national heroes?" Ed said, venom in his tone. He didn't like playing that card, but it was the truth- he could hardly go anywhere in Central or East without someone thanking him for his service to the country. The only place he could relax was Risembool- well, except for the new bragging rights that any and all residents of the podunk backwater village were exercising. Home of the Fullmetal Alchemist, after all.

"Your boss should have gotten a letter a while back."

"Letter? The hell does that have to do with my question?"

"Think of it as an invitation of sorts." Aokiji shrugged, pulling a sleeping mask down over his eyes. "The World Government can't just let any old nation go off on it's own. It's a matter of keeping the peace."

Ed's brow furrowed as he put two and two together. "So if we refuse, you just charge in and take over anyway."

"It's up to the Gorosei what happens there." Aokiji said. "I don't make the rules, I just enforce them."

Ed snorted. "Well. I guess I can speak for the rest of my country when I say fuck your government. We don't want it."

"Ararara, that's not good." Aokiji peeled the mask up and sat up a little. "You shouldn't let the bosses hear you say that."

"I'll say it all I want. And let me tell you something about us Amestrians, _Admiral-"_ He spat the title with none of the respect due it, his mouth twisting in a snarl. "We _really _don't like it when people look down on us. And it doesn't matter how you try to deceive us, how many guns you send to fight us, or how long the fight drags on, we will _always_ stand up again. You have two choices- attack and get your ass handed to you, or behave yourself and _leave us the hell alone."_

Aokiji was silent through Ed's tirade, something cold and calculating in his gaze. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head.

"Admiral, sir?"

The wavering voice came from the door, from a small marine with bushy red hair.

"Yes, what is it?"

"We've arrived at Marinford. The ship will make port in fifteen minutes."

"Very well." Aokiji stood and stretched, gesturing vaguely at Ed as he walked out of the room. "Take him back to his cell, Petty Officer."

"Yes sir."

"You can't say I didn't warn you, Aokiji." Ed called, standing when the marine grabbed his arms. "Whatever happens from here on out is on your head."

Aokiji's slim shoulders shrugged as he exited the room. "We'll see about that."


	3. Chapter 3: Morality

**Chapter Three: Morality**

* * *

Marinford Isle.

A crescent-shaped island in the Grand Line that sat just in front of the Red Line, as if it was a shield for it's sister city atop the rusty cliff. Once simply an uninhabited isle, much like many others in the ocean, it had been settled and developed centuries ago by the knight councils of the twenty kings, and became what it was today- Marine Headquarters.

It had teemed with activity for as long as it had been occupied, housing the families of higher-ranked marines, dignitaries, prisoners just dangerous enough to not be left in penitentiaries in their homelands but not nearly in the league that would land them in Impel Down, and leagues upon leagues of soldiers. However, the weeks leading up until a certain execution had been completely mad, with hundreds upon thousands of soldiers leaving their posts in farther waters and gathering in Marinford all for one purpose- insurance against the strongest pirate on the seas.

For a certain young but ambitious officer, it was a chance to breathe. He, being stationed at HQ to begin with, had no problems finding his way around, and saw the calm before the storm as a lull in which to gather his strength to fight when the time came. To fight...but then, he was beginning to second-guess himself, his superiors. Removed as he was from the madness and action swirling around him, he had a rare vantage of the goings-on in the world's center.

"Whaddaya mean?"

"I just feel like this is... wrong, somehow." Coby sighed, fiddling with the blue kerchief around his neck.

"Coby..." Helmeppo sighed, more in exasperation than compassion. "He's a pirate, okay? This is what we _do._"

"I know that, but don't you think it's strange how we ruthlessly punish pirates, yet the Shichibukai are condoned? I mean, look at Crocodile. He almost destroyed Alabasta, and the world has no idea." Coby insisted, the insecurity he thought he'd shaken twisting like a knife in his gut. It had come back gradually over the past month or so, and the fact that he was feeling that kind of apprehension and indecisiveness again worried him more than he could say.

"I'm not gonna argue with you there- the Shichibukai are no better than the pirates that rape and pillage for a living, but that's just the way it is." Helmeppo shrugged. "It's out of our hands. There's nothing we can do."

"I don't believe that." Coby said firmly, his brows drawing down. "How are we supposed to feel good about what we do if it involves letting murderers and criminals like them go free, and killing good people? Can't you see that?"

"Master Chief Petty Officer Coby."

Coby flinched slightly, having not heard the other soldier come up behind him. It was the soldier who wore a fedora that hid his eyes. He'd been there ever since Coby and Helmeppo joined the Marines, but the only name they knew him by was Stig. No rank, no given name, just Stig.

"You have received your assignment for this week. You'll be assisting the guards in the west wing brig. Please be advised not to leave your post unless absolutely necessary."

Unlike times past, Coby did not automatically snap off a salute. He blinked dubiously for a moment, and then bowed his head. "Yes sir."

Stig regarded him with a cautious eye for a moment longer, before nodding and turning to leave. Helmeppo, having already been assigned to guard the execution platform the day of, left as well, after meeting eyes with Coby and shrugging.

_It's out of our hands._

He looked down, splaying his hands wide, long fingers spread out. They had scars and calluses all over them now, toughened and strengthened just like the rest of him. Made into what they were by the intense training he pushed through to get to where he was today. They could do so much more now than swabbing the deck of Alvida's ship, and it was all thanks to a pirate.

Hands curled into fists. Eyes burned with a visceral intensity, gazing at the platform where blood would be spilt the next day.

_Perhaps it's out of yours. But not mine.

* * *

_

They came for him suddenly, in the middle of the night, storming into his cell and throwing a sack over his head. His first instinct was to fight it, a result of the sheer terror of being woken from an uneasy sleep and assaulted. All he knew was that he kicked someone in the jaw before a needle pierced his neck, and all of the fight drained out of him, his remaining two limbs going numb as his mind fuzzed over.

The next thing he knew, he was secured to a chair and the sack was pulled off his head, his eyes blinded by the lights glaring on him. He squeezed them shut, trying to quell the stars burned into his retinae when someone grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head up, their words nothing more than muffled white noise. He tried to jerk his head from their grip, and was rewarded with a fist across the face that nearly broke his nose.

"_Look me in the eyes, you little demon."_

His head was sagging between his shoulders, providing some shadow for his eyes, which were just beginning to clear. He blinked the muzzy blurs out of his vision, and slowly raised his head, golden eyes molten and blazing.

Ed found it a bit surprising that, despite the sedative, head wound, and harsh lights, he could see the color drain slightly from the soldier's face, shadow of another retreating into the darkness nearby. He snorted, a smudge of blood trickling from his nose and dripping onto his sneering lips.

"What, you never seen anybody with yellow eyes before?" He spat, remembering the images of the Xerxian people now burned into his mind. He'd been awed to see so many people, a veritable ocean of men and women with hair and eyes just like his. He'd been led to believe it was rare in Amestris, and now he knew why- because all other golden-eyed people had been wiped out centuries ago.

The man merely grunted in response, content with the fact that Ed was at least cognizant. He strode around to the other side of the table before Edward, taking a seat and thereby moving out of the path of the bright lights, leaving them to shine fully in Edward's face.

"Your name?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric of the Amestrian Military." He snarled, closing his eyes. These were all tools. The stocks, the lights, the painfully uncomfortable chair. All made to shake him and get his heart rate up, spark his nerves and push him that much closer to cracking. He knew all of this, and refused to let it shake him.

A brow slowly arched in the interrogator's face. Ed raised his in response. "The hell's the matter with you?"

He shrugged, scribbling on his clipboard. "Nothing. I'm just surprised how easy that was."

"I have no reason to be ashamed of who I am or the country I serve." Ed drawled.

"Hn." An amused snort. "Let's try and make this easy, Edward." Ed curled his lip slightly in disgust as he consulted a clipboard. _Build a rapport with the subject, as it opens them up to volunteering information, therefore making the interrogator's job easier. Not happening._

"That's Lieutenant Colonel Elric to you." He scoffed. "Drop the pretense."

Nondescript dark eyebrows were drawn skeptically, a thin mouth pursed, as the man twirled a pen in his right hand. "This can be as simple or as painful as you wish, Edward. It's your choice."

Ed smiled viciously, his hands literally itching to wrap themselves around the bastard's neck. "I like pain."

A shrug, as he abruptly stopped twirling the pen and tapped it's end down on the clipboard. "I warned you."

* * *

For such a well-built and maintained island, Marinford's prisons were horrific.

Perhaps it was to be expected, though. They were only cleaned enough that prisoners wouldn't die of neglect and poison by excrement until they had been used up. As expected, they were worse than he had heard- dark, dank, malodorous and generally not fit for human habitation.

Coby had a feeling he was being punished. For what, he wasn't sure. He wondered for a moment if Helmeppo had relayed his recent doubt of his superiors to said superiors, but he dashed the notion. Helmeppo was his friend. He wouldn't betray his trust.

"Master Chief Petty Officer Coby reporting for guard duty."

The warden nodded respectfully. Coby grimaced inwardly, knowing how galling it had to feel to act so politely toward a teenager who outranked him.

"Thank you for your assistance, sir." He handed Coby a simple map of the prison, with one cell block marked. "This is your post. There's only one prisoner there, so it shouldn't be too much trouble."

Coby nodded as he signed off for a standard-issue rifle. "Thank you, Warden. I'll be on my way."

* * *

"Name the vital supply lines to your main headquarters."

"Classified."

"Where are your armaments produced?"

"Classified."

"How do you police your borders?"

"Classified."

"What kind of artillery do you use?"

"Classified. Are you deaf?"

Ed could see his face going red with anger. His eyes narrowed, the corner of one twitching, as his lip twitched up in an irritated smirk.

"Aren't you angry that your precious Commander hasn't come to save you?"

Ed snorted at the word 'precious'. "You make the mistake of thinking I need his help to get out of here. And I assure you, once I get these fucking stocks off, yours is the first face I'll smash in."

"You seem a bit peeved. Don't you feel betrayed?"

"You're the only one who's peeved, pal. And it's because I know all of the weak tactics you're using on me, and I'm afraid I'm not stupid enough to fall for your bullbaiting." Edward said calmly. Quite frankly, he found this 'interrogation' more like a relaxed interview. He'd expected something more harsh and demeaning than a simple question-answer format. Maybe the guy was just a greenhorn. He certainly seemed like one, acting tough and then getting angry when nothing worked.

The interrogator eyed him for a moment longer, in a way that he apparently thought was intimidating, and then shook his head. "Degree one has failed. Tomorrow we'll move on to Degree two."

He then stood, wordlessly, leaving his clipboard on the table and began to walk, as if he meant to leave. Edward followed him with his narrowed eyes until he went out of his field of vision, and stifled a grunt of pain when a hand wrapped around his tattered braid and pulled hard, forcing him to tilt his head back.

He heard a vicious scoff. "Well. With where you're going after were done using you, I don't think you'll be needing this."

He heard the click of a switchblade, and tried to pull his head away. "No! Don't-"

It was a dull, nauseating _snik,_ and suddenly the familiar weight of his braid was gone. The ends of his now shorter hair tickled his neck, dragging along his skin as he turned slightly to see his golden hair clenched in a meaty fist, one end neatly tied off, the other raggedly sawed.

"You're right, Lieutenant Colonel, it was a bit _tame_ this time. I' a generous man, so I like to start out easy... give you bastards a chance to come clean before I get into the real fun."

He stepped forward, out of the shadows, and grinned, his teeth tapering into skin-crawlingly sharp points. The whole atmosphere seemed to change, the room's temperature dropping as a tiny inkling of fear burned in Edward's throat for the first time.

"Next time, you'll see just how nasty I can be. And if you don't give me what I want, then this..." He raised his hand holding the braid, and let it slip from his hands to fall to the cement floor... "...will be your brother's head."

Ed was so pinned by the words that he didn't even notice the other slinking out of the shadows until a sharp, stinging pain pierced the side of his neck. His eyes slid closed.

He dreamed of death that night.

* * *

Waaargh, it's so easy to split a story into chapters when you know where it's going!

I'm treating this something like my own personal NaNoWriMo, except it's not November and I'm not trying to finish it in a month. AND, I'll be going out of town for a week starting on... Sunday, I think? So there might be a lull in the updates.

Eeee, Coby! I like 'im. He's a somewhat important character here. And I know there was much Ed and no Al this time, but, well, I want to keep chapters manageable. Not like Convergence, where I crank out twelve pages at a time. Somehow, it doesn't work here.

Hope you enjoyed, and I'll update again soon!


	4. Chapter 4: The Difference

...Uh... hi. It's been a while. Eheheh.

I know I've been horrible about updating my stories, and I really have no excuse. I think I've started up too many at once that need to be finished. I AM going to finish them all eventually, but I'm considering putting a few on hiatus until I feel I can handle them again. I doubt this one will be one of those stories, but don't take my word for it right now. As far as the story goes... I think my muses went on vacation at some point during the past few months. I've found it very hard to drum up brainstorms when there's nothing significant coming from the canon story. Not to say that the Fishman Island history is insignificant, I just want to see more Strawhats since they've been gone for so long. That and the anime is dragging along, but... I'm rambling.

I need me some Zoro. :(

**Chapter Four: The Difference**

From what he'd heard from the last guard, the prisoner in this cell block was strange.

He was a teenager, apparently, but that was all that was known about him. One would expect him to be ornery and violent, as young people restrained against their will were wont to do- or so he'd been told- but this one wasn't.

He was calm. Patient. And oddly enough, _polite._

On Coby's first shift guarding his cell, it was roughly time for the prisoner's once daily meal, so he decided to bring it with him. The guy actually smiled enigmatically and thanked him for it. Coby used the word 'enigmatic' because it didn't quite reach his eyes, as if he was just calmly waiting for something.

It made for a very strange atmosphere. Coby didn't have that much experience watching prisoners, but with the few he _had_ guarded, they were all violent, raging lunatics.

But here this blonde-haired, golden-eyed person sat, idly munching on a piece of stale bread and staring off into space.

Coby wasn't sure whether to be relieved or frightened, quite honestly. The person's demeanor really humanized him, to the point where Coby barely felt as if he were guarding a prisoner anymore. He'd actually been engaged in conversation a few times, keeping a- perhaps overly-cautious- ear perked for words that would elicit the young officer to give away information about his restraints and the cell block, but it was none of that. He asked Coby about himself, how he got to be where he was. Coby offered a curtailed, glazed-over version of his story thus far to the prisoner, mostly just to see why he wanted to know, and it was his response that totally blew him out of the water.

"You're a very dedicated person, Coby. Whoever you devote yourself to is lucky."

After that, he asked the prisoner his name. The blond smiled.

"Alphonse Elric."

* * *

Shortly following his new acquaintance (friendship?) with Alphonse, Coby was called away to accompany Garp to visit a prisoner in Impel Down. It wasn't until they arrived that Coby learned just who it was, far down on the sixth level of the prison. He didn't actually see Portgas for himself, but he was required to accompany the Vice Admiral to the edge of the cell and stand guard. The prison back on Marinford Isle could have been a five-star hotel when compared to this hellhole. Jeering inmates didn't really bother him, but it was only when he turned around and stole a glimpse of Portgas that something felt off.

He was speaking quietly to Garp, with a sharp glint in his eye, and an edge in his voice, but he didn't seem to have the same demeanor as the other prisoners. He'd seen that somewhere before recently. And then he realized.

This man reminded him of Alphonse.

At that point, he turned back around, with a sharp, uncomfortable little sigh. He pushed it out of his mind, at least enough to keep his wits about him until they returned to the ship.

Upon his return, he'd been assigned back to the same cell block again. And as per usual, he made sure there were no others in earshot, and sat down outside the bars.

"Hey." Alphonse greeted him. "You've been gone for a while."

"We left to visit a prisoner on death row."

"Sounds like fun." Al drawled sarcastically, eliciting a small grin from Coby. "What's his name?"

"Portgas D. Ace."

Al slowly looked up, with a bit of confusion that evaporated moments later. "Oh, right. I keep forgetting you say surnames first around here. You know what the D stands for?"

"No clue. It's some big mystery, cropping up among unrelated people. I know two others with it."

"That's kind of weird. You sure it's not just coincedence?"

"All of the people with that initial are notoriously strong. I've met three altogether, and one of them is my CO."

"Hmm." Alphonse murmured. "So, what did this guy do to deserve the death penalty?"

Coby shrugged. "He's a pirate. It's what we do."

"Seriously?"

"They're executing him on the plaza in less than an hour." Coby said, sliding down to sit next to the cell bars. Al picked at the stale bread and on the tray given him.

"You don't sound too happy about it."

"That's because I'm not." He said, folding his arms about himself in such a way that betrayed his young age. "He's under the command of the strongest Yonkou in the Grand Line, and this guy does _not_ like it when people attack his crew. It's like a mafia- they're all one big family." Coby shook his head, grasping at the pink strands. "If we actually... if we kill him, the retribution will be..." At this, he trailed off and sighed in helpless frustration. "And when we went to see him, he was just... quiet. Didn't yell or curse at all, he was actually kind of- nice. Or it seems like he would be, if he wasn't pinned down by kairoseki chains and behind bars."

Al, having chewed on the same piece of stale bread for the last two minutes or so, finally swallowed and set the rest of the bread down. "Coby, why do you stay if the Marines keep doing such things that clearly go against everything you stand for?"

Coby glanced up, a mirthless laugh falling from his lips as he rubbed the inside corners of his eyes. "Honestly? I've been starting to wonder that myself."

Al frowned thoughtfully. "This might sound impertinent, but why did you enlist in the first place?"

He took a moment to think, slowly inhaling through his nose, and exhaling in a sigh, a pensive, contemplative look on his face. "Because... I wanted- still want- to help people."

"And do you categorize what you're doing- standing idly by while marines capture apparently good people and interrogate them before killing them- as helping people?"

"No!" Coby burst out. "Of course not, I- I would never..."

Al shrugged. "Then quit. 'S what my brother did. He and General Mustang, and a combined battalion's worth of soldiers loyal to him and a General from up north. We staged a coup de tat, and one year later, Amestris was on the road to recovery."

"...Quit? Just like that?" Coby repeated, dubiously. "It's not that easy, Alphonse. I'll be _killed_ if I try something like that. You don't know what the Marines are capable of."

"They're only capable of things like that because of one thing- manpower. Mindless sheep who pander to their every order, and the second a soldier stops questioning his superiors, that's when everything goes to pot. No one questions their orders, they just fulfill them without a second thought as to the impact it will have." His voice grew pithy at the end, and he took a moment to regain his composure, fragile as it was. He looked Coby in the eyes, the latter finding himself pinned to the spot by the sharp gaze. "General Mustang did just what you did in his youth- obeyed all orders, no matter how unsavory, convinced that the military had the country's best interests at heart, that he and the country would be better for it after the horrible things were done, and do you know what that did? It turned him into a murderer. He committed _genocide_ in the name of Amestris. There is _nothing_ in this world that is worth that kind of loss of life."

A sudden quake ripped it's way through the catacombs, dust falling from the ceiling. Coby glanced up warily, then looking back at Alphonse.

"Coby, I'm begging you. Don't do what he did. If you don't agree with where the Marines are taking this world, then work up some courage and _do something about it."_

Coby's heart started beating faster, with an impending sense that he had to act now. "But... how can I fight the whole world? I'm only one person."

"Yes, you are." Alphonse nodded sagely, with that enigmatic smile again. "But you have to understand, Coby, there's a difference between doing what's right and what's easy. You'll have to learn where the line is drawn for yourself."

Coby's eyes hazed over for a moment, memories and ambitions ghosting over his mind- things that, a year ago, had been crystal clear, but now were blurred. Vague, as if someone had pulled a cloth over his eyes, blinding him to his own dreams. The unease had set in so gradually that he didn't even realize it until that day they saw Luffy again, in Water 7- it hit like a brick once they were gone, back on Vice-Admiral Garp's ship. Back then, he hadn't much time to worry over it, but now, it was like Alphonse had grasped that opaque cloth and ripped it right from his vision.

His beady eyes hardened, resolve flooding back into his bones. "You're right."

Without another word, Coby surged to his feet, clenched fists trembling. He swallowed hard on the lump that had formed in his throat, turning on his heel to where the keys hung on the wall-

"Coby! _This_ is where you've been?"

Coby jumped almost a full foot in the air, whirling around to face the newcomer. "Helmeppo! What's going on?"

"Whitebeard just arrived to spring Portgas! The old man'll blow a gasket if we don't get out there and fight, so come on!" Helmeppo ran forward and grabbed Coby around the wrist, forcefully dragging him toward the door.

"He-Helmeppo, wait! Hey!"

Coby grasped at the keys hanging on the wall, his short stature and odd posture from being dragged keeping him from grabbing them. Dust fell from the ceiling as another shell exploded somewhere nearby, and Al could only catch a fleeting glimpse of Coby's face- apologetic and panicked- before he disappeared around the corner.

He didn't have it in mind when he talked to Coby. He wasn't trying to sway the boy to let him escape, but when he suddenly stood up and reached for the keys, Alphonse wasn't about to bemoan his sudden stroke of luck after weeks of the opposite.

And then the guy with the butt-chin conveniently ruined it. It sucked, letting himself get his hopes up and then being thrown back to square one, but Alphonse wasn't the kind of person to lose it over such a thing. No, he had more composure than that. He would simply have to find another way out. Another way to get rid of the ropes around his wrists, perhaps find a sharp edge on the metal or something, like...

A knife. Yeah, that would do it.

Just outside of the bars. A dagger, probably standard issue. And no Marines in sight.

Al inched closer to the bars, already knowing that his hands, bound solidly by rope with one hand at the opposite elbow, would be of no help. Once he was close enough, he shimmied his right foot through the bars, past the ankle, but a few inches short of the knee.

He grasped at the blade with his toes, frustrated when his attempts only knocked the blade so that it spun around, weight resting on it's handle. It spun once, almost a complete revolution, and stopped, with the handle just under his smallest toe. He stifled a cry of triumph when he finally grasped it, dragging it back to the cell across the rough-hewn stone floor.

As soon as it was inside the bars, he clenched it between his teeth and moved to a part of the cell where the stone was softer, it's tough exterior gradually worn away by the brackish sea air. Slowly, painstakingly, he carved one, two circles into it, two triangles, each overlapping the other but facing opposite ways. Finished, he tossed the knife away and awkwardly shifted so that his right hand reached the circle, and, remembering the alkahestric technique taught to him by Mei, willed the power of the earth to surge up and bend to his will.

It took considerably longer than an Amestrian alchemic reaction would have, but with the same results- the stocks disintegrated into dust at his will, it's atomic bonds severed. He inspected his forearms, wincing at the angry red abrasions, and shaking them vigorously to get the feeling back in them.

"I'll find you, Ed. And then we can get out of here and go home." He promised, more to cement his resolve than anything, and walked over to the bars. He smirked, clapping his hands together, and feeling the heady energy rush up from the ground and gather in his palms.

_Here we go._


	5. Chapter 5: A Brother's Bond

**Chapter Five: A Brother's Bond**

"Damn it Helmeppo, let me go!" Coby yelled, ripping his arm from his friend's grasp. He stopped in his tracks in the street, with buildings on either side, and the sounds of a war raging not too far away. "Why did you do that?"

Helmeppo turned around and folded his arms. "You should thank me, Coby. We almost missed all the action."

"Cut the crap." He spat, his usually chilled temper flaring. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Oh dear. I seem to have dropped my knife." Helmeppo droned, in a stilted, rehearsed fashion.

Coby resisted the urge to wring at his hair in irritation. "Helmeppo-"

"I must have left it in the _cell block_." He said pointedly, with a wink.

And then it hit him. Coby's mouth dropped open. "You-"

"Better to 'accidentally' misplace a piece of standard issue equipment than actively aid a prisoner, whether he's your new best buddy or not. Jeez, Coby, don't you know anything?" Helmeppo goaded, with a smirk.

* * *

Edward lay on the stone floor of his cell, deep in thought. The stone against his face was cold, a welcome compress for his bruised skin. His head still throbbed badly, keeping his mind in a fog, but he had long ago learned to ignore such things and work through them. Even when they were caused by ruthless beatings and interrogations, the reason for which were still unclear.

He didn't even know what they _wanted_, for pity's sake, but they kept pushing. Something about a weapon, his eyes... none of it made sense.

He opened one eye, glancing up through the bars. The hall was scantily lit, but the silhouettes of two uniformed guards was clear. They each stood with their backs to him, rifles in hand, no doubt with orders to shoot him if he caused too much trouble. Idiots. Not like he had the energy for that anymore. How was he meant to, when his hands were bound behind his back and all he got to eat regardless was a bit of stale bread and a cup of water?

He sighed, curling a little tighter against the cold and wincing when the motion grazed the scuffs and cuts on his leg against the stone. Luckily, they hadn't figured out how to get his limbs off, so that was a mark to the positive. Or maybe it was that they wanted him to be able to walk, and something to tie his real arm to so he couldn't punch anybody. Regardless, they didn't know anything about automail, and judging by the way they looked at it, they'd never seen anything like it before. Just another reminder of how far from home he was.

"Quit makin' so much noise, Elric."

Ed froze, his train of thought screeching to a stop. Anger welled up in him for a split-second, but it was stifled to death in the next, like a candle snuffed. Lacking the inclination to start what would inevitably be a pointless fight, he just closed his eyes and tried to make it go away. Fat lot of good that did, because the next second brought a rifle butt down on his head.

This time, he really did make noise, a shocked yelp of pain. He recoiled from the blow, jerking his head up to glare at the guard as he nudged away from the cell door.

The guard advanced on it, irrationally pissed off. "You better listen to me when I talk, you piece of shit!"

Something clicked in Edward's head, as he took stock of the toady's posture. Tense muscles. Red face. Clearly, his temper was already on a hairtrigger, saving Edward the work of steering it there. He sneered derisively, as the blood dripped down his forehead. "You're kinda pissy today, aren't you? What, did your girlfriend dump you for someone else?"

"Why don't you drag your sorry ass back over here and find out?"

Ed's sneer turned to a smirk no doubt stolen from a certain smarmy Colonel. "Oh. Boyfriend, then?"

Ed could not articulate how amusing- and vindicating- it was to see the blood rush to his face in anger, going from pale to red to almost purple in only a few seconds. _Bingo. Now for the straw to break the camel's back..._

"Knock it off, Roche." The other guard spoke up suddenly, sounding distinctly bored. "He's just trying to goad you into a foaming rage so he can escape." He then turned and eyed his colleague. "Looks like it's working, too."

Roche's angry, wheezing breath continued for a moment, before his twitching brow finally fell still, though still furrowed. "Little _fucker_. You think I'm gonna fall for that?"

Ed raised one eyebrow. "You already _did_, half-wit."

The other guard sighed as Roche snorted in rage. "For god's sake, go get a drink or something. Don't let a shitty duty assignment make you turn into a rabid animal."

Mumbling under his breath, Roche shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off down the hall, leaving Ed alone with the buddha. And that was the end of that.

Ed leaned back against the side wall of his cell, fuming. That is, until a cloud of dust kicked up in the hall.

* * *

Most people would just be concerned with getting around unseen. Dodging patrols, keeping one's footfalls silent. Alphonse had another problem.

He was trying not to laugh.

It was a bizarre reaction. Perhaps it was sheer glee at being able to move about without his big, hollow, metal feet clanging everywhere he went. After the Promised Day, he'd made his way from a wheelchair eventually into crutches, and when he was finally able to walk unaided, he realized something strange- he could sneak up on people.

The first time, it was accidental. He walked up behind Mustang, after silently entering his office, and the man's back was turned to him. Standing half a meter behind him, he reached over and tapped the man on the shoulder, at which point he actually _jumped_ and whirled around. Alphonse was as startled as he was, apologizing as they both laughed it off, but he'd found it surprisingly easy to skulk ever since.

And now, he was actually having fun. While making his way through a cellblock behind enemy lines, in search of his brother and perhaps their confiscated belongings.

He happened upon what looked like an office, which had two men standing within it. He silently pressed himself up against the outside wall and listened.

"...weird little thing. I've never seen a pistol like this. Where's the flintlock?"

"Dunno. You can have that, all I want is the leather jacket. It won't fit me, but my kid sister might like it. It's small enough for her."

Laughter emanated from the office, and Alphonse took that as his cue. He stepped into the door, hands in his pockets and smirking. The laughter died when they saw his face, and the one holding Ed's pistol brandished it inexpertly.

"What the hell? What're you doing out of your cell?"

"Escaping, genius. And I wouldn't say that 'kid sister' thing in front of my brother, he'll eviscerate you." He turned to the other Marine. "And by the way, the safety's on."

He lunged, and the gun clicked ineffectively as the soldier tried to fire it, relinquishing his hold on it when Alphonse twisted it out of his hand and kicked him firmly in the chest, sending him into the back wall. The other guard reached for his sword, but Alphonse dispatched him effortlessly before it even made it halfway out of it's sheath.

With a sigh, he gathered the coat and their other effects before studying the papers on the desk. After a fair bit of rummaging, he found a map of the cellblocks, and the spot marked where his brother was being held.

A scream, a thud, and then silence. Even the buddha-guard's hackles went up.

Suddenly, a cloud of dust and sand and god-knew-what else surged up, swirling in the enclosed space and blocking sight of the second corridor. The guard drew his rifle, cocking it. "Roche, what happened? Roche!"

After a moment of silence, he cursed and edged toward the cloud. Ed watched as he disappeared into the opaque fog, and waited silently, ears perked.

A choked-off yell emanated from the cloud of dust. Moments later, the second guard toppled backwards onto the ground, blood dripping from his chin, eyes rolled back in his head.

Ed bolted upright when a third silhouette resolved itself in the smoke, expecting trouble. The sudden movement made his head swim, he hunkered down to steady himself.

Something came flying out of the cloud, falling to the ground with a dull thump just outside the bars. It was a melange of cloth and leather, and oddly enough... a gun holster? Wait a minute. That was his jacket. His pistol, standard Amestris military issue.

He flinched and closed his eyes when a hail of blue sparks sprang to life on the iron door, leaping along the beams of metal before turning them to dust, and leaping across the floor to do the same for the stocks on his wrists. Alphonse smiled and stretched a hand out when he looked up.

"Come on, all hell's breaking loose outside. This is our best chance."

Ed smirked, grasping the offered hand and pulling himself to his feet. "Didn't think you had it in you."

Al smirked right back. "Don't sell me short, Ed."

Ed's brow twitched at 'short', but he didn't address it. Al simply smiled sweetly and handed him his belongings.

"These guys must be stupid to keep our stuff within spitting distance, dontcha think?"

"Yeah, really." Ed scoffed, threading the gun holster's loop through his belt. After latching that in the belt loops of his black jeans, he shrugged on the leather gunner's jacket with two emblems on it- one on the left side of the chest with Amestris' new symbol, and another on the left shoulder that denoted his rank- Lieutenant Colonel, with the requisite silver maple leaf in the center. "You know the way out of here?"

"Nope." Al shrugged, trotting alongside his brother.

"All right then." Ed smiled, clapping his hands together. "Lets make one."

For all he hated this place, he had to admit it was well-built.

* * *

Back in the cellblock, he didn't quite believe his brother when he said 'all hell was breaking loose'. It was totally silent in the jail, but now... he was shocked to see the plaza in crumbled shambles when they made their way out there, trying to sneak around the marine forces and perhaps onto an enemy ship. Where they went after that didn't matter, as long as they weren't here.

Halfway toward the harbor, Ed heard the whistle of an approaching shell and dove atop his brother in a full-body-tackle, protecting him. They hit the ground behind a massive chunk of concrete, cringing against the explosion that tore it apart. Ed coughed slightly, opening one eye cautiously to peer through the dust and chaos. He could see two black-haired young men, about their age, one with wild eyes and a scar on his left cheek, and the other with tattoos and a beaded necklace, fighting a man made of lava. He couldn't even muster the energy in all the chaos to care how that was even logically possible, forcing his mind into a state of suspended disbelief as the wild-eyed one fell backwards, as if exhausted.

A column of magma was surging for him, who lacked even the energy to stand anymore, his battered form almost collapsed onto the ground. And just before it hit, someone else jumped in the way, and a cloud of dust and steam kicked up. They could hear the scream from where they hid.

"ACE!"

The cloud began to fade, and at first blush, 'Ace' appeared to have stopped the fist... but just a second later, Ed realized, with a sick jolt, that it had gone _through_ him.

"Oh holy hell." Al cursed, from next to him. A hand came up to cover Ed's his mouth in horror as the man yanked his fist out of the smaller person's body, forcing him to take a step back. A mouthful of blood spilled from Ace's lips, and he fell forward into the other boy's arms, to the horror of many of the fighters.

"Al." He said, tearing his eyes away. He swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."

"Ed... that's his brother." Al said, weakly, sounding lost. Ed cringed at that sound in his little brother's voice. "C-Coby told me, he-"

"I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can-"

"There has to be. I've studied Alkahestry, maybe-"

"He's got a _hole_ punched straight through his body, Al. He's a goner."

"You didn't give up when you got impaled by that beam in Baschool!" Alphonse shot back. And then they both fell dead silent, because they both knew what Al was thinking. Ed saw that crazed look in his eye, and paled to damn near gray.

"No. Fuck no. Absolutely not."

"Ed, that's his _brother._" Al repeated firmly, the crazed look solidifying into a stark raving mad glint, with a touch of pain. "You don't know how much it hurt when I almost lost you."

"Al, for the love of god, please! I'm begging you!" He implored, with terror screaming through his body. "You could die! _You don't even know them!"_

"I don't have to!" Al shouted back, and wrested his brother's hands from his arms, taking off across the battlefield.

"Al! Damn it, no!" Edward shouted, struggling to his feet and chasing after his brother who, against all common sense, was running _toward_ the chaos. "_ALPHONSE_!"

* * *

Can't post AN's at beginning of chapter for some reason. Hmm.

I am experiencing a slight bunny surge where One Piece is concerned. Methinks it has to do with the recent progression of the anime to the Fishman Island arc, and the GORGEOUS animation that for some reason reminds me of Eureka Seven. Which is a totally awesome thing, because that series kicks ass. I wonder if they have an animator or two in common. Anyway. It most likely has more to do with that than the manga, which I'm not entirely happy with, as of this week. Anybody who's read chapter 648 will know more or less what I'm referring to. My opinion at this point is vacillating between 'eh' and 'nofeckingway', but I'm trying to look at it the way Oda does. So. yeah. Can't say much more without MASSIVE spoilers, so... I'll shut up.

Next chapter will probably be soon, considering how I've written most of it already... and a good chunk of the rest underwent a mass-revision. Til next time. 8)


End file.
